


Almost Like Rendered in Crayon

by Naemi



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Divergence, Found Family, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Stupid Excuses, brief mentions of Molly Walker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 20:57:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11906076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naemi/pseuds/Naemi
Summary: It's ridiculous. A man driven by logic and science should know better than to lose himself in a fantasy that cannot be.But scientist or not, Mohinder is also still a man.





	Almost Like Rendered in Crayon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Themisto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Themisto/gifts).



> Dear Themisto, thank you for making me write this pairing =) I sincerely hope this little fic is something you can enjoy.

 

Mohinder watches Matt over the rim of a delicate china cup that once belonged to his father. If Chandra Suresh knew about the things on his son's mind, Mohinder would be in serious trouble, grown man or not. Then of course, his father is dead, and Matt knowing would likely create problems far more concerning at this point … But he can't know because he doesn't read Mohinder's mind; he promised not to, and Mohinder trusts him. 

He doesn't trust himself much, however, and so he cuts his eyes away from the sliver of milky skin slowly disappearing behind shirt buttons, sets down his cup, and moves to pack Molly's lunchbox. He hands it to her, hugs her, kisses her on the forehead, and wishes her a great day at school, and then he stands before Matt and for a second, he fears he can't fight the urge to touch him.

Matt turns away and dons his jacket, and the moment has passed, the door is closing behind them.

Without Molly and Matt, the apartment is eerily quiet and empty. In the beginning, while they were still figuring out how to be a functioning, if unusual, family, Mohinder appreciated the silence and the opportunity to bury himself in his research undisturbed. But after a while, especially when he hit one dead end after the other, he caught himself staring and wondering more often than working. 

He's become so attached to his little family that he can hardly bear being alone with papers that don't lead him anywhere and an empty apartment that's somewhat small for three people, but way too big for one man alone with his thoughts. Sometimes, he wonders if all of this makes him some kind of unhappy housewife, technically, and usually, the idea elicits soft laughter. He does care for the house all right, but he's neither a wife nor unhappy, and the thought is just too ridiculous.

It's also persistent, though. In some twisted way, it almost rings true, or so Mohinder comes to think when day after day passes on which he shuffles through his research, washes dishes, folds laundry, and tries to ignore the fact that Matt seems to be on his mind all the time.

~ ~ ~

After the door closed behind his family with a soft thud, Mohinder goes about his routine as usual. He focuses on scrubbing soaked dinner dishes while shaking off the image of a gorgeous, shirtless Matt and moves to clean Molly's room afterwards. He makes the bed and picks up two toys from the floor, and then the drawing Molly made the other night catches his attention. His fingers trail the outline of a crayon house, sun, and flower, and his heart beats against his ribcage when they near the contours of a face that's supposed to be Matt's. Crayon-Matt and crayon-himself stand side by side, one hand each on crayon-Molly's shoulders. The family is almost picture-perfect, and the sentiment moves Mohinder more than it should.

He withdraws his hand as if he burned himself. 

It's ridiculous. A man driven by logic and science should know better than to lose himself in a fantasy that cannot be.

But scientist or not, Mohinder is also still a man. 

~ ~ ~

As the weeks roll by and Mohinder's thoughts draw ever closer circles about an issue too uncomfortable to discuss yet too important to deny, he fears he's on the verge of losing his mind over the matter. He isn't sure if he's truly longing for or simply lusting after Matt. Probably both, but it's all new and frightening, and therefore, it doesn't make a difference. He's got to do something about it either way lest the situation becomes toxic, and so he settles for the one option he believes he has. One night, after they tuck Molly into bed and sit down on the couch with a beer each and some program playing about which Mohinder couldn't care less, he tells Matt.

Not that he wants him—whatever that means. 

But that he needs change. 

Matt shoots him a quizzical look and takes a sip from his beer. Three painfully quick heartbeats later, he says: “Like what?”

“Like,” Mohinder starts, and before his mind's eye flash inappropriate images with such vehemence that he's certain Matt must see them. If he does, he doesn't let on; his expression doesn't change.

Mohinder clears his throat (and his thoughts) and starts again. “The situation—our arrangement … it feels like it isn't … the best.”

“Not the best how?” Matt asks sheepishly.

“Well, it may not be right … for Molly.”

“Huh.” Matt squints his eyes, and in that moment, Mohinder is certain he's at least considering reading his mind; he doesn't need anyone to tell him he's making little sense by his own standards.

“Don't,” he says with a small shake of his head.

“Don't what?”

“Don't huh me, Matt,” Mohinder continues down that same, stupid road. “I'm serious. After all Molly's been through, I want to make sure to do what's in her best interest. And I don't know if this”—he gestures in a vague circle including everything and nothing—“is it.”

“If _this_ ”—Matt mirrors Mohinder's gesture—“is what I think it is … It happens all the time, all over the world. And, you know, those kids? They come out just fine. But if I know all that, you do, too, because you're a hell of a lot smarter than me. Usually, anyway. So cut the crap. What's really going on?”

Mohinder shakes his head again. It took this conversation all of thirty seconds to derail, not least because he chose the wrong approach, and Matt is right: He's smarter than that. They both are. Too stubborn to backpedal, although it isn't too late yet, Mohinder says, “A child needs a family.”

“We are a family.”

To hear Matt say it out loud makes Mohinder's heart skip a few beats until he remembers they're on different pages still. “Are we, though?” Annoyed, he brushes away an errant curl and takes a deep breath that fails to calm him.

Matt leans forward to set his beer bottle on the table, and the TV light catches in his eyes as an unreal sparkle. “Of course we are.” His voice is even and serious. “It doesn't sound like you to question that. Unless …” He frowns, sits up straight, and locks eyes with Mohinder. “You met someone, right? Is that it? Someone who makes you … I don't know, want me gone, I guess? Out of the way?”

“That's not it,” Mohinder says, looking down on the bottle in his hands. “Not at all. My concern—”

“Is bullshit.”

“It's not enough, Matt,” Mohinder says louder than he intends. “For me, it isn't.” He regrets his words the moment they leave his mouth. He didn't mean to sound desperate, didn't mean any of this to surface like that, and if Matt doesn't get it … If he can't _see_ , then maybe it's better—and safer—to sweep it under the rug forever and continue down the path of _it's all about Molly_.

Heart beating a mile a minute, Mohinder lets out a long, shaky breath. He fumbles with a loose edge of the label on his bottle and peels it off. The silence is leaden, lasting. 

“Forget about it,” he eventually says low, and at the same time, Matt clears his throat and softly asks: “What's it you want, then?”

When Mohinder looks up, Matt is so close to him that it takes all his willpower not to kiss him down, screw all consequences. But he only dares going this far; he remains silent and still, at a loss for everything.

And then, the impossible happens. It's so utterly unexpected that Mohinder's certain he's imagining Matt leaning in just that much more, bringing his hand up only so it can hesitate a fingertip away from Mohinder's face before sliding to the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss. It only lasts for about ten seconds, then Mohinder pulls back and meets little resistance.

Eyes wide, he stares at Matt, who grins and sucks in his bottom lip and then grins some more like a silly teenage boy in the back of his mother's car might do. Matt flicks down his gaze, looks back up again, and when Mohinder still doesn't know a word to say or anything to do, he deflates, suddenly and completely.

“Like I said …” He shifts uncomfortably. “You're the smarter one, so … I'm really sorry …”

Mohinder doesn't need the ability to read minds to understand. It's written all over Matt's face, crystal clear: rejection, embarrassment, defeat, all mixed up in a slight but beautiful blush on his cheeks that screams _don't hate me now_. Matt frowns at his own hand as he withdraws it (as if he forgot about it and is now wondering what that thing even is), and Mohinder reaches for it as he whispers: “Don't be.”

And just like that, just by the look on Matt's face in the moment before they kiss again, all of Mohinder's fears and worries dissipate like smoke and make way to the overwhelming feeling of belonging. Come morning, they'll _have_ to have a conversation, but right now, Mohinder's mind checks out, lets his body take the lead. And as if it's the most natural thing in the world, Matt follows.

A few kisses later, they find themselves lying on the couch, Mohinder straddling Matt. Judging by the soft little sounds originating deep in their throats, Mohinder grinding down gives them both what they need. For now at least; the tension and desire that built up inside Mohinder over the past few weeks won't be satisfied that easily. They don't have to go all the way—the thought makes him gasp into the kiss because it hits him that suddenly, this seems a real possibility—and they won't, not tonight, but they're both grown men with the ability to draw a line if need be … and for Mohinder, that line is definitely not near yet.

He withdraws, sits back, and pulls his white long-sleeve shirt over his head. As soon as the fabric is out of the way, Matt runs a hand down Mohinder's chest, pausing only to briefly thumb a nipple before continuing to the waistband, where he's stopped.

Mohinder locks eyes with Matt then tilts his head towards his bedroom door. He doesn't want to say it out loud for fear of ruining the mood, but Molly walking in on them is a legitimate concern.

Matt nods.

Separating seems like an impossible task, but luckily, only a few steps keep them apart. When Mohinder closes the bedroom door, Matt spins him around and pins him against the wood. Their lips meet once more, and for a moment, they're only tongues and hands and erections frustrated with the amount of fabric between them until Matt decides to do a little something about it. 

Unceremoniously, he pops open Mohinder's jeans button and unzips his fly while his other hand searches and finds a nipple to pinch hard. A hiss leaves Mohinder's mouth, only to be turned into a moan when Matt shoves his hand inside his pants and squeezes his dick _just_ right. 

Head resting back against the door, Mohinder closes his eyes and lets a wave of desire wash over him. At this point, he can't recall what he imagined being with Matt would be like, but he's certain this is going to be better than any fantasy he ever had. 

At the very least, it's _real_.

Matt grabs the waistbands of Mohinder's pants and briefs at once, but one hand will only get you this far, especially with the other somewhat in the way. Mohinder is quick to help and, to his own surprise, doesn't feel the least bit shy when he stands naked before a fully dressed Matt. He opens his eyes again and catches Matt staring down as if he's never seen a dick in his life before, much less one in his hand. That blush is back on his cheeks, albeit hard to see in the dim light that fills the room, and Mohinder touches his face, can't resist the urge to feel the beauty under his fingertips.

“Are you going to stare all day?” he teases and adds with a boyish grin: “Not that I mind, but I could think of more interesting things to do.”

“Yeah? Like what?” Matt replies with a smirk. Without waiting for an answer, he runs his thumb up Mohinder's cock, nudges his frenulum, and with a small flick of the wrist draws a wide circle over the tip.

By virtue of sheer willpower, Mohinder manages to keep his mighty moan a low sound deep in his throat, but it must be encouraging, for Matt repeats the movement, and by all things holy, he's going to make Mohinder come if he keeps that up for long.

Matt trails his lips up the side of Mohinder's neck, sucks down on the spot right below his ear, then whispers: “Is this the _enough_ you're looking for?”

By way of reply, Mohinder squeezes Matt's dick through his sweatpants, feels it twitch, and notices his own dick growing even harder.

“We're getting there,” he breathes and pushes Matt back with the heel of his hand pressing against his lower belly.

With a soft groan, Matt withdraws his hand and moves. When he reaches the bed, he sits, legs spread wide enough to allow Mohinder to stand between them. His gaze flicks from Mohinder's hard-on up to his face. He licks his lips, as if he isn't sure whether or not to go down on him, or maybe he's working up the courage. 

Mohinder decides for him. For all his former fears, he isn't afraid to take what he wants, now that he's granted a fantasy come to life.

He pushes at Matt's chest, smiles when he sinks back and props himself up on his elbows, and with impatience—and a little help—he pulls Matt's sweatpants down to his ankles. The discovery that he isn't wearing any underwear elicits a smirk. As Matt struggles to shake off his pants completely, Mohinder shoves his T-shirt up until it reveals a slip of milky white skin, and for a moment, it's him who stares with eyes seemingly incapable of processing the beauty before them.

Everything about Matt is perfect, and Mohinder takes a mental note to tell him; right now though, he feels it would cause unnecessary awkwardness, and so he holds his tongue. 

Mohinder's gaze wanders down, trails his own fingers that run over light skin and through dark curls until they wrap around the base of Matt's cock and elicit a breathless moan when they slide up to the tip.

Fully rid of his pants, Matt spreads his legs wider. 

Not stopping his slow slide of hand, Mohinder crawls onto the bed, locks eyes with Matt, and finds all the unspoken consent he needs.

The first flick of tongue is hesitant, merely a ghosting touch, but with the second, Mohinder recalls how he likes it done, and the third is a teasing swirl at which Matt moans a garbled word that might have been Mohinder's name.

Caught between the wish to tease and please, Mohinder closes his lips around Matt's dick, delivers another quick lick over the glans, and then slowly, carefully, takes him in deeper. 

He's never sucked cock before, but the guttural sounds he draws from Matt are beautiful and encouraging, and they resonate right through him, all the way to his own dick that's twitching with anticipation. Mohinder's confidence grows along with his excitement, and soon he's built a steady rhythm: a hot-wet up and down that his hand mirrors every so often. Every teasing lick and flick elicits moans that Mohinder wishes he could swallow in a kiss, but since he can't have both, he settles for dragging his lips all the way up and off with an almost lewd sound. Matt murmurs a complaint that becomes an obscenity when Mohinder nudges his frenulum with the tip of his tongue before he gently sucks down on that sensitive spot.

Matt's hips jerk up. His hand finds Mohinder's hair and fists his curls, and a gasped, “Please,” comes over his lips. 

Flicking his gaze to Matt's face, Mohinder sucks down again. He takes in the beauty of Matt's expression—eyes closed, cheeks flushed, jaw clenched—and in that moment, he knows two things for certain: he's in love indeed and he wants nothing more than to prove that.

Matt pleads again, almost inaudibly, and Mohinder complies. While he sucks Matt back into his mouth as far as he can take him, he runs his thumb down his balls. Happy with the moans he elicits, he exerts pressure with the heel of his hand and then slides lower to give a proper squeeze. 

“God, yes!”

Mohinder finds a new rhythm easily, and for a while, they're all sucking noises and guttural sounds. His own dick aching now, Mohinder shifts to jack himself, but finds it hard to properly focus on two tasks at the same time. He decides to take care of himself after; the frustrated humming noise he makes has Matt buck up so uncontrolled that Mohinder almost chokes.

Prepared, he repeats the sound, and Matt bucks up again. His grip in Mohinder's hair turns almost painful, and Mohinder closes his eyes and lets Matt dictate his rhythm. Too soon for his liking, the taste of slightly salty precome hits Mohinder's tongue, and a minute later, Matt releases his hair. 

“I'm … gonna … come …”

With another, satisfied hum, Mohinder flutters his eyes open to watch Matt's face. He slides his lips off Matt's cock, delivers a last, hard squeeze and quick lick, and just as he wraps his hand around Matt to stroke him through his orgasm, the first spurt of cum hits the side of his jaw. 

Matt comes over Mohinder's hand and his own belly, and he looks gorgeous and beautiful with his legs fallen wide open, his eyes shut tight, and his whole body trembling.

Sitting back, Mohinder keeps stroking him gently, slowly, for another few heartbeats and only then wipes the cum from his face with the back of his clean hand, as he wipes the other on the sheets. 

Matt reaches out for Mohinder and finds his wrist, by which he pulls him down, trapping sweat, semen, aching erection, and all between their bodies when he holds Mohinder so tight as if he's afraid he might vanish in the next moment.

They kiss—lazy and sweet and a little exhausted—until Matt wraps his legs around Mohinder's hips and, as a result, presses their dicks even closer together. 

With a groan, Mohinder grinds down. He breaks the kiss and searches Matt's eyes for a hint of what's on his mind now.

The sparkle he finds, a promise of pleasures unknown, causes his mind to go completely blank for a second.

It's his turn to receive—and Matt has plenty to give.

**Author's Note:**

> This is canon-divergent insofar as Matt, Mohinder, and Molly live together permanently, and there's no imminent danger or any need to save the world. I also decided against Mohinder working for the Company at this point and neglected mentions of most things to do with specific canon events. In short, I tweaked what I felt I had to and left everything else unsaid.
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful **Jacie** , who also made sure all characters were returned unharmed.
> 
> [Visit my LJ-community [Bunny Bash](http://bunnybash.livejournal.com) to leave me a prompt at any time.]
> 
> [Feedback is love.]


End file.
